It Had to Be Him
by NobleBrokenBeauty
Summary: Massie didn't know what the Westchester Mall would bring her that day. She didn't know that day would live in gossip infamy forever. Warning: contains character death.


**A/N: Okay, Noelle, here you go. Your Clique story I promised you. Bit morbid, but as I was feeling guilty at the time I thought of this plot, it fits.**

**Now stop bugging me about the Clique audition!!**

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_**Westchester Mall**_

_**Center Plaza**_

_Thursday, __June 28__th_

_10:13 AM_

Massie sauntered across the mall, Starbucks in hand, closely followed by her Pretty Committee. She directed herself into the best stores, filling her arms with bags and bags of clothes she didn't need. Most she would probably never ear. It didn't matter though. She just had to show everyone that she was special – she could do something the others couldn't. She was top dog and there was nothing they could do to bring her down.

Nothing.

She had to be ready for eighth grade. New school, new teachers, new classes – and boys. She had to be on top of her game that first day to show them who was boss. But she knew she had her weaknesses. She had her share of them.

She hid behind those piles and piles of clothes. She hid her broken heart. She hid her insecurities with the perfect life, with the perfect cover-up story. She was the rich, perfect, gorgeous, unbreakable Massie Block. No one dared mess with her who didn't have a suicide wish. But sometimes Massie thought other of those people who spoke their mind to her. Not often, but sometimes she just wished her life could be…

…that simple.

"Any new gossip, Leesh?" Massie placed her Coach tote bag on her lap, feeling the red leather against her moisturized hands and felt the smooth French manicure on her nails with the purple gemstone on both ring finger nails. She smoothed out her tan slouchy Chanel gauchos and her red and white lace Juicy cami, layered with a silver shrug from Guess? and completed with white Steve Madden stiletto boots. She adjusted the thick, red, jeweled Betsey Johnson headband in her hair and looked anxiously at Alicia for any news.

"Seems _Derrick_," she said his name with a scowl, which Massie approved of, "is gearing up for the new school year as well. Got a whole new scheme about us and how terrible we are. Puh-lease! We wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Yeah, saying we're terrible is like saying Kuh-laire here is the mastermind," Dylan cackled, tapping Claire on her head. Claire rolled her eyes as Alicia and Kristen laughed along with Dylan, but smiled all the same. Massie, however, didn't laugh. She smiled at Dylan's joke, but had realized how terrible she had been to Claire. Some fury had been rightfully directed at her, but some… some was just plain torture.

Massie spoke up again, quieting her group. She felt the power she held over them and she felt the power she held over everyone. "Well, then, we just need to show everyone that we're nothing like what Derrick says. Sweet, innocent, but all alpha. Everyone in?"

Massie gazed around her circle of friends and one by one, they all nodded in agreement. Massie grinned, and flipped a loose lock of hair behind her ear. She pulled out a purple notepad and her purple fuzzy pen and began to write out Operation Lollipop. She would prove Derrick was a liar once and for all, be renowned for her kindness, and still top the dog-eat-dog world of middle school.

"Hey, Massie!" a voice yelled across the mall. Massie slowly set down her pen and flipped closed her notebook. She knew that voice and it was going to wait until she was good and ready. Showtime.

"Did you hear something?" Massie said loud enough so that he person who had dared speak her name would hear. "Because I thought I did, but it gave me this splitting headache." Massie pushed her chair back with her feet and got up, her stilettos making sharp clicks on the tiled floor. She narrowed her hawk-like eyes and looked for her victim.

"What are _you_ doing here, Massie?" The boy came galloping down the stairs, ahead of his normal group. He looked from her to her friends to the pile of shopping bags she had abandoned next to her chair. His eyes widened in fake, mocking surprise.

"Are you _shopping_, Massie? Well, isn't that a surprise!" the boy taunted her. She couldn't stand his voice ringing in her ears. No one talked to Massie Block that way. No one who wanted to make it out alive, at least.

"Are your shorts _not_ down around your ankles? Well, that's a surprise, too!" she mocked him in that same babyish voice. His jaw dropped for a brief moment as his soccer friends cackled behind him and Massie gained ground.

"It's also a surprise you're speaking in proper English, too. It thought that last wipe-out you pathetically lost in goal at your last game was sure enough to knock out your tiny little brain, but," Massie shrugged, seeing his face transform yet again and taking pleasure in it, "I guess luck wasn't with me that day. Too bad it's never with you, or you may have been an actual decent person for once."

Massie turned on her heel, ready to be rid of this idiot once and for all, but he caught her shoulder.

"Don't try and sweet talk me, Massie. You know you love me," he grinned. Massie clenched her hands into fists, fighting the urge to smack him senseless.

"I know I _hate_ you and that's final. Stay the hell away from me, or you'll be hearing from my lawyers." She tried to turn again, but was stopped yet another time. His hand was stronger this time and he nearly pulled her back towards him. She groaned out loud in aggravation when she almost topped backwards, not hearing the sharp crack of what sounded like a whip.

"What do you want?!" she snapped at him. "I told you to stay out of my life!"

In a breathy voice that was not his own, he said, "I wanted to say sorry."

His eyes grew dark and he hit the ground with a resounding thud, hair falling across his pained face. Massie rolled her eyes, tapping her foot on the ground. Sometimes boys could just be so… ugh!

"Don't play that pathetic card with me. Get up."

The boy didn't move, just grunted, closing his eyes and seemingly in pure torture. His breathing was rapid and there were people scrambling everywhere around them. Massie kept her eyes locked on the boy in front of her, never letting one thing distract her.

"I'm not going to fall for that."

A hand touched her shoulder. Massie swiveled around with such irritation, the hand slipped quickly off her shoulder. It was Kristen, teal eyes wider than Massie had ever seen them. She looked deep into Massie's amber eyes – something a lot of people wouldn't dare try. Her voice shook as she replied.

"Mass… I don't think he's playing. Something's wrong."

Claire had already noticed this. She swept her long bangs out of her face, and knelt down urgently next to the motionless boy. She grabbed his wrist and felt for pulse.

This was when Massie began to realize this was all too real. She fell on her knees next to Claire, willing that he was still living, and not believing that he had gone down without a fight. He had apologized and… and now this? She gently shook his shoulder, praying to Gawd he was okay. Her sight was growing blurry, but when she pulled her hand away…

…it was covered with sticky red blood. Massie's eyes widened and she screeched at Kristen, Dylan, and Alicia.

"Open up your effin' cell phones and call 911! Don't gawk like some brainless monkeys!"

They scrambled to their purses and flipped open their phones, all speaking urgently into the mouthpiece. Massie looked from Claire to the boy. Claire's hands were shaking.

"He was shot, Mass. He stepped in front of you… and saved you when he pulled you back… and he was shot."

Before she knew what she was doing, Massie collapsed crying into Claire's shoulder. No… this wasn't happening! Not to her… not to him… not ever! This was why he had so suddenly apologized. This was why there were people screaming frantically to get out of the Westchester Mall. This was why Massie was in hysterics… if she had only just forgiven him then…

Maybe he would still be okay.

"It's okay, Massie. Everything's going to be okay. Don't worry you'll see. Tomorrow, you'll be fighting again like normal. It'll be like it never happened."

Massie couldn't help but smile, a small one at that, at Claire's attempt to distract her from this horrible nightmare she was in. She just felt so terrible… had she always been like this to him?

Claire knew she shouldn't let Massie believe that the boy was going to survive. She couldn't get her hopes up. It was useless otherwise, though. As the police and paramedics came, Massie was an unrecognizable mess. She had not washed the blood off her hands. Her mascara ran down her face and no lip gloss had touched her lips for several hours. Her forgotten Starbucks had fallen over on the ground and created a river of chai, reaching the nearest store and staining the carpeted entrance.

The rest was history and would live in gossip infamy for the rest of her life.

_**Westchester Belief Church**_

_**Back Row**_

_Sunday, July 1__st_

_1:48 PM_

And so here she was, attending the funeral of none other than her ex-boyfriend Derrick Harrington. It wasn't that she didn't want to be here. She just didn't want to feel the sorrow that her heart would break upon time and time again. Did he really jump in the way of that bullet so it would not harm her? Or was he just the mere victim of a mall gun-down?

She would never know.

Slowly, she got up, making sure her dress was smooth, and held the green thick stem of the dark purple tulip with both black gloved-lace hands. How this could have happened so quickly she'd never know. One moment he was there, and the next… he had moved on.

She laid the purple tulip down and walked away. Her eyes swam with tears never cried, with words never said. She felt Claire's steady grip on her arm, leading her out of the service. She heard Alicia's voice, but couldn't understand her words – she didn't want to.

She would never see his face again. She would never see him score another goal on the Briarwood soccer team. She would never hear his laughter again. She would never see him flip back his blonde hair again. His immature antics she would even miss…

And most of all, she would never get to tell him she had loved him.

Derrick Harrington stepped in the way of a speeding bullet for Massie Block that day at the Westchester Mall, that day that was supposed to be for planning and scheming. But it turned out so very different, so very life altering… for everyone.

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**A/N: Ah, yes, morbid-ness. But I may continue this… if I get a good enough story line. Massie will not turn goth or emo or anything like that. Incredibly terrible clichés will kill this story if she does. So I'll be thinking. Did you like it, Chi? It's the fic I owed you and now that debt is paid.**

**Please review, if you're not too disturbed by this story, and tell me what you thought!**


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